


Into the Future

by Balidoria



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balidoria/pseuds/Balidoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if your favorite video game character came hurtling through your screen, and into your life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've read so many self insert stories where the player falls into the world of a video game, and so I thought to myself, what would the reverse be like? And boom! This idea was born!

She had played this part of the game so many times now, Christiana was sure she’d memorized each line of dialogue. From her companions to Eamon, even Riordans little monologue about the Archdemon. However, this time would be unlike the others! Angrily she clicked, directing her character towards their room, heart tripping slightly in nervousness. Her friends told her she had a _problem_. That she was obsessed with a fictional world. Well what was so wrong with that? The real world usually sucked anyway! In Dragon Age she had no bills, no responsibilities, and a hot boyfriend who liked swords. Unlike her very boring and average life. However, today she would prove her friends wrong!  
  
Tapping her foot lightly in agitation she watched the scene load, Morrigan standing quietly before the fire place, and the choice of whether to accept or decline the dark ritual suddenly staring her in the face. Biting her lip she fixated on the options. She could do it. She could ignore the dark ritual and kill off her character. It was just a stupid game right? She’d never _not_ done it before, too terrified of accidentally killing Alistair or herself and denying them their happy ending. It was important to her! Huffing in annoyance Christiana forced herself to turn down Morrigan, cringing as the witch yelled in anger before sweeping away and transforming. _Well_ … she thought, biting her lip. _That wasn’t so bad?_  
  
Mentally smacking herself she rallied, watching as Queen Anora came forward to deliver her battle speech. With a sigh Christiana leaned back against her couch, mentally comparing the Queens speech to Alistairs when she had made him King. _Alistair did it better. Then again, I’d probably think that of anything he did._ Blushing she straightened, grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table in front of her. So maybe she had a _slight_ crush on a fictional character, but only a little!  
  
A soft meow drew her attention to her cat as the purring ball of fluff climbed into her lap. “Here for moral support little buddy?” she crooned, scratching the tabby beneath the chin. She could do this. Grabbing her controller she prepared to fight through the city, quickly checking to make sure her entire party was equipped, and tearfully listening to their last goodbyes. At the character selection screen she hesitated. Should she take Alistair? He wouldn’t try and strike the killing blow would he? He never had before. In fact, he’d never disobeyed an order in game. Shaking her head at her foolishness she grabbed Wynne and Zevran as well, and set off for the first general. “I’m over thinking things aren’t I Wigums?” she asked the cat, blowing out a huff of air at her nervousness.  
  
On and on they fought through the city to Fort Drakon, the fights now instinctive as she directed her party to make choke points, using her mage to rain huge elemental storms on scours of darkspawn. Giggling maniacally she mixed the inferno spell with the electrical vortex, watching as the two huge columns of energy obliterated everything. “I wish they had kept those in Inquisition.” Christiana told her cat, glancing down to watch his ear flick to hers slightly. “Yeah.” She sighed. “That would have been a little too OP I guess.”  
  
Finally they were fighting the Archdemon. Like a well-oiled machine she directed the flow of battle, decimating the enormous dragon in record time. Smiling, she leaned back as the dragon keened towards the ground. Now was her moment! Abruptly the camera flipped to Alistair, his armor shining as he strode towards her character.  
  
“Wait. Let me. There is no need for you to die. This is my duty, I should be the one to kill it.” He faced her, weight shifting has his eyes almost seemed to lock with hers.  
  
Christiana froze, her hands white knuckling around her controller. Sucking in a harsh breath she stared down the other warden. “Like fucking hell.” She muttered. Scrolling down she glanced through the options, angrily selecting her refusal.  
  
He smiled in response, titling closer. A shiver raced down her spine at his movements. Was it just her or did they seem more…. Real? Shaking her head in frustration she blocked out the thought, ignoring her sleep deprived brain. “I will reload the shit out of this save if I have to.”  
  
“I know how I feel about you, I won’t let you die, not while I can do something about it.”  
  
“Stupid noble idiot!” she growled, panic curling in her gut. What was happening? “The one time you decide to try and take a stand it’s now!?” Angrily she sucked in air, trying to find the words to convince him down. “Which option is it?” she hissed. This had not been part of the plan. “If you think I’m going to let you die puppy, you’ve got another thing coming!”  
  
With a soft chuckle he straightened. “You say that as if I’m giving you a choice.”  
  
Christiana froze, mouth gaping. She hadn’t clicked an option… abruptly the screen flipped, Alistair turning to run towards the Archdemon, hands grasping the sword to end its life. “No! Shit!” Scrambling for her controller she clutched the useless hunk of plastic in her hands, eyes riveted to the familiar scene, suddenly tragic to watch in the dim light of her apartment. This wasn’t….. “It’s just a game, it’s just a game.” She repeated the mantra, willing tears away. “For fuck sakes.” She hissed wiping her cheek. This was like Mass Effect 3 all over again! Except this was her stupid fault!  
  
His eyes seemed to almost lock with hers as he raised his sword high, face smiling slightly as he plunged it into the Archdemons head, blinding light pouring from the wound. Her eyes locked on his. Rude game developers giving him life like animations now! What in the actual shit?  
  
Light flooded from her TV, almost blinding in its intensity, a loud buzzing ringing through the air. On her lap Wigums meowed nervously, wriggling away. This definitely wasn’t normal. “Kitty?” Christiana gasped, staring at her screen in growing worry, the noise almost deafening now. “Crap!” Abruptly the light exploded outwards with a bang, the screech of her coffee table shattering barely audible beneath her own scream of terror. Lunging to her feet she jumped onto her couch, panic clawing at her throat, blinking tears away from her eyes.  
  
“Holy shit!” She choked out, rubbing the after images away. The smell of sulfur and burnt wood putrid in the silence of her apartment. A soft groan rose from next to her couch, low and male in the quiet, and distinctly not cat like. Body stiffening she peered over the edge.  
  
Beneath her a man sprawled across the destruction of what had once been her coffee table, silver plated armor glinting in the light from her ceiling. Her breath seized in her chest as he shifted, shield and sword clanking against his back as he began to push himself upright.  
  
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Christiana gasped, reaching down to grab a pillow tightly. A stranger was in her house and she would beat the hell out of him with the upholstery if she had to!  
  
With a huff he pushed himself upright, golden red hair matted and dirty as he tilted to face her. “Love?”  
  
She stared, brain seizing as _that voice_ echoed through her apartment. “Sweet fuck…” she croaked, vision blackening, air thinning as she hyperventilated.  
  
“Love?!”  
  
The world careened to black, the endearment echoing as her face rushed to meet the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Alistair jerked forward, catching her before she slammed into the ground. His aching arms groaned in protest at her extra weight. “Love?!” Shaking her slightly he settled her more firmly against him, lowering them both to the floor. With trembling hands he shifted her hair from her face, framing her cheeks as he checked her over for injuries.  
  
What in the void had happened? Glancing around him nervously, he took stock of his body. Everything ached, his side throbbing where the Archdemon had smacked him into a building, but his heart was still pounding in his chest wasn’t it? He was alive, someway, somehow, and his warden was here with him, dressed in ridiculous looking clothes that had… were those cats printed on them? Mentally shaking himself he flicked his eyes over the building they were in. Nothing was familiar. Above him mage lights glowed, illuminating wooden floors, and strange metal boxes, the hard press of whatever he had landed on digging into his legs.  
  
Pulling her limp body closer he climbed to his feet, pushing aside his fatigue as he took stock of the situation. Here they were in a strange place, with no supplies and no way to contact anyone for assistance. “Maker’s breath.” He muttered, laying her gently on the couch. Reaching up he unsheathed his sword from his back, moving towards the stone counter to his left. “Alright secure the area.” He whispered, stepping over to a shiny metal basin. Next to it sat a pitcher of water and a cloth, and across from that a block of wood containing knives. “A kitchen?”  
  
Reaching for the pitcher and cloth he used some of it to wipe darkspawn from his hands and face. Maker but he smelled _awful_. Cringing he plucked what had probably once been bits of a person from his hair. That done he moved to survey the doorway next to the dining room table, carefully testing the handle, feeling the resistance as the locked door refused to budge. The whole building seemed to consist of three rooms. Beyond the kitchen a short hallway led to a strange white room full of porcelain and metal objects, and beside that a messy bedroom covered in odd clothing.  
  
Shifting awkwardly inside the small space Alistair tilted his head as a small brown cat crawled towards him, flicking its tail in aggravation at his smell. Smiling down at the creature he offered out his hand, eyes crinkling in amusement as it swept past him in a huff. “I like dogs better anyway.” He called after it. Stepping to the side his foot collided with a small stuffed horse toy. Frowning in concern he plucked it up. Were there children here? Clutching it closer he strode back to the main room.  
  
“Alright. Locked in here together.” Shifting he turned to glance at his warden, sleeping peacefully on the sofa. With a soft smile he watched the way her face twitched, her dark hair falling to rest across the pillows. “I suppose it could be worse.”  
  
He blinked, noticing curtains behind her. Relieved he moved towards them. Curtains meant windows, and windows meant a way out of whatever this place was when the time came. Reaching out he grasped the fabric and wrenched it aside, his stomach plummeting in terror at the sight beyond. Lights shined as far as his eyes could see, whizzing by hundreds of feet below them, and illuminating giant glass structures stretching towards the night sky. Choking in a harsh breath he jerked back from the windows, clutching his sword tightly in shaking hands. They were dead. They had to be! But then that meant… spinning he turned to face his warden, rushing to her side in panic. “No no no no no!” He had taken the killing blow! Why was she here?!  
  
A bang suddenly echoed through the room, the door next to the dining room table rattling as someone knocked on it harshly. Reaching down Alistair gathered her limp body into his arms, pulling them both into the corner facing the door. Sitting down he tugged her into his lap, maneuvering his shield so that it covered both of them as his eyes strained to see through the dim lighting.  
  
“Christiana?” A male voice called, muffled by the wood of the door. “Are you home? We thought we heard a bang.”  
  
“She’s not home Eric, I told you! She went out tonight.” A female voice scolded. “That noise was probably from Jim next door. He’s always doing crazy shit at night.”  
  
Alistair sneered at the conversation, settling his warden more securely in his arms. How long did it take to come investigate dangerous noises? Certainly not ten minutes. He could open the door and confront the intruders, but what if it was demons? Or maybe something worse? Clutching her closer he pressed his nose into the softness of her hair. He didn’t have the strength to take on any enemies at the moment, and protect her should they get passed him. Closing his eyes he willed the strangers away, his stomach rumbling out an abrupt protest. Cursing the stupid things timing, he prayed the sounds hadn’t been noticeable to those outside.  
  
“It’s better to check though, isn’t it?” The mas asked, his voice fading as he stepped back from the door. The woman’s reply inaudible as they moved away.  
  
Breathing out a soft sigh of relief Alistair pressed his cheek to the top of her head, eyes sliding closed in exhaustion. Had they done it? Had they stopped the Blight only to be sent to wherever this was? Was Fereldan safe? Hadn’t they done enough? His stomach curled at the thought, eyes blinking to stay open. Shifting he settled his shield more solidly in front of them. Whatever the case may be, they were together, and that was one gift he was going to squander.


	3. Chapter 3

Her head was pounding, back aching, ass numb, and something smelt _terrible_. Groaning Christiana stretched her hand up, rubbing her aching temples. What the hell happened? Blinking her eyes open she flinched, sunlight glinting off the metal object in front of her. Was she cuddling her fridge? A soft huff of air stirred the hair at the back of her neck, chills racing up her spine at the sensation. Glancing down she flinched. Around her a metal clad arm cuddled her close, a sword glinting across her lap, and her stuffed horse resting on top of it. The other held what looked to be a shield across a pair of bloodied armored knees. Why was there…? She froze, memories from the night before choking her.  
  
Swallowing an ostrich sized egg, she titled her head slightly, shifting to dislodge the head resting against her shoulder. She was in her apartment and a strange man was holding her. A strange man who sounded _exactly_ like her favorite video game character. A strange man who had come bursting through her TV and wrecked her coffee table. Either he was a figment of her imagination, or a creepy larper coming to invade her home. Neither option sounded particularly healthy. Though would a hallucination _smell_ so bad?  
  
Tamping down on her panic she plucked at his arm, slowly peeling his finger back from where the clutched at her pajama shirt. _Please stay asleep, please stay asleep, please stay asleep!_ With a soft squeak of success she pulled his arm off her, shifting next to maneuver his shield out of the way. Her focus narrowed to the weight of his gauntleted hand, pausing momentarily to admire the engraving of his cuff. Whoever this person or hallucination was, they sure were detailed. Pulling on his wrist she paused, the weight of his arm and shield far heavier than she had anticipated.  
  
A soft chuckle rumbled from the chest behind her, air brushing the nape of her neck. “What are you doing, love?”  
  
With a shriek she lunged from his grip, tripping over his feet as she careened towards her couch. Her head struck the soft upholstery with a muffled thud, knees clacking awkwardly against the hardwood. Above her his face swam into view. Amber eyes framed by thick lashes peered worriedly into her own, his jaw lightly dusted with stubble in a style she would recognize anywhere. He looked _exactly_ like Alistair, as if the man himself had crawled from her TV and into her home.  
  
“Makers breath are you alright?” he asked, that familiar voice rolling over her like thunder.  
  
Strong hands reached for her, but her panicked brain sent her rolling to her feet, sprinting pass him towards the bathroom. Reaching the door she slammed it closed, clicking the lock into place with shaking hands. Grabbing a handful of her hair she tugged it upright gasping for breath in the small room. “Holy shit!” He’d been _real. Real real!_  
  
The sounds of armored boots clacking against the wood of her floors made her heart race as with a gentle knock he pushed against the door. “Love?”  
  
“Fuck me!” she gasped, fighting to calm her racing pulse. How had this happened? Twisting her hair into fists she turned to stare at the door. She was crazy, plain and simple. She should have listened to her friends when they told her to go out and get a life!  
  
A nervous chuckle filtered through the door across from her, cutting through her frantic thoughts. “You might have to open the door for that my dear.”  
  
She froze, blushing as she realized her unintentional wording. Shaking her head she smacked herself with the palm of her hand. What did she care? This wasn’t possible!  
“Dear? Could you maybe, open this door?” She flinched, eyes trained on the handle nervously. “I’d much rather panic with you than by myself.” A soft thud echoed through the wood as he pressed his hands against it. “Ill cry, I’m serious.” He warned her, voice hitching slightly.  
  
Christiana was pretty sure he’s meant that as a joke, but the quaver in his voice made her hesitate. “Sorry, this rooms for crazy people only.” She told him nervously, shifting backwards to sit on the toilet seat.  
  
“I killed an Archdemon, does that count?”  
  
She shuddered at the remembrance, anger coiling in her gut as the cut scene played through her head again. “Well if someone hadn’t decided to try and disobey orders! That wouldn’t have happened!” A soft giggle suddenly slipped through her mouth. She was arguing with a video game character. “Oh my God I’m losing it.” Leaning forward she braced herself against her knees, hands rubbing her eyes. This was all a stupid dream, and she’d wake up on the couch, with her cat, alone.  
  
A sigh echoed through the door. “Please.” He whispered, hands running along the frame. “Please open the door love. I don’t know… I mean. Maker.” She heard him swallow in the silence. “I just need to make sure you’re alright.”  
  
Her heart twisted at his words, face contorting. What was she doing? Either he was a crazy role player, a hallucination, or the real deal, and only one of those options seemed farfetched. It’s not like she could ask the guy a skill testing question could she? Anyone who played the game would know everything she did. She paused, mulling over the possibilities. Abruptly she straightened. He’d been wearing the armor she’d equipped on him in game, did that mean he’d be wearing the same necklaces and rings as well? Mentally rallying she unlocked the door, heart pounding. This was insane.  
  
Outside he leaned against the door frame, towering over her, form covered in bloodied silver plate. Immediately he grasped her, dragging her against his chest in a bone crushing hug. “Andraste save me. Are you okay?” At her nod he reached forward, brushing her hair back from her face with trembling hands. “I was so scared that I might lose you, but here you are. And here I am. Not bad right?”  
  
Christiana stiffened as the familiar words echoed through her hallway. Words she had heard each time she’d completed the game before. Swallowing her nerves she wriggled her hands free from his, reaching up to his neck, and the leather cords peeking through the slight gap. Tugging at the length of them she pulled free a collection of necklaces. The first was a heart shaped locket, twin swirls around the edges leading to a dark center. It was the joining amulet, the only piece of jewelry she had ever actually seen in game. Next was a cracked silver pendant, Andraste’s face gleaming through the repaired seams. Flicking her eyes up to his she curbed her panic. This was his mother amulet, and the thing was real silver. Sucking in air she grasped the next one, short tingles of ice racing along her hand as it glowed. Actually fucking glowed.  
  
All thoughts of composure fled as she began panting in air. His worried voice muffled as she stared at the enchanted piece of jewelry. _He was real! How?!_ Strong arms cradled her as the world once again went fuzzy around the edges, darkness claiming her consciousness once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Alistairs arms clamped around her waist as she fainted _again._ Sucking in a harsh breath as she collided with his sore ribs, he hefted her up into his arms, frowning in concern. He had _never_ seen her so much as stagger before! Never mind pass out! Twice! “Was it my impeccable taste in jewelry that made you faint, or the smell of darkspawn and Archdemon? Or maybe my good looks?” At her non response he let out a sigh, titling his head back in defeat.  
  
Carrying her to the couch, he laid her down gently, shifting her head so she rested comfortably against the arm rest. Huffing out a breath he studied her face intently, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes and pale skin. “What have you been doing to yourself love?” he whispered, moving her hair back from her forehead. He brushed her face gently with his fingers as he waited for her to rouse, flinching at each strange sound echoing through the house.  
  
“You know…” he told her, eyebrows quirking in amusement. “I imagined a rather… _different_ , reunion if we managed to live through this whole, blight business.” Alistair grinned, watching her mouth fall open in response. “Yes, quite different. More, wild victory kisses than strange places and fainting women. Not that I’m complaining of course, as long as it’s _you_ fainting into my arms.” Sighing at her continued silence he poked her lightly in the side, willing her to wake. “Really, this would be hilarious if I didn’t think we could be in danger of _dying_ any second.”  
  
Tilting his head to survey the room his eyes lit on the pitcher of water, resting against the counter. Flicking a glance back at her still face he smirked. Giving her once last good poke he climbed to his feet, walking to grab the pitcher firmly in one hand. “My dear?” Shuffling closer he shook her gently. “Love?” She drooled in response. Mentally bracing himself he dribbled some of the water across her forehead, jerking back in alarm as she jack knifed into a sitting position, gasping like a fish out of water.  
  
“You’re awake!” Reaching forward he dragged her into a hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Please don’t pass out again, or yell at me. I don’t think my ribs can take carrying you all over the place.” Beneath him she was stiff as a board, arms clenching tightly against his chest plate. “My dear?”  
  
Pushing back from him slightly she tilted her head up to stare at him, eyes wide. “Did… did you just call me fat?” Her voice sounded almost awed in the echo of the apartment.  
  
Choking in a breath Alistair shook his head vehemently. “Maker no! I- I meant…” burying his face in his hands he peeked at her through his fingers. “I’ll get better at this one day, I swear.” At her snort he gave her a grin, sliding closer to her across the length of the couch. “You know… I should make it up to you.” At her confused look he pressed closer, waggling his eyebrows. His eyes locked on hers as he leaned forward, intent on giving her the kiss he had been craving since they had awoken together in this place. To be here together, _alive_ , against all the odds… he _needed_ her.  
  
“Christiana…” he rumbled, aching, mouth brushing just barely against hers. With a start he inhaled a mouthful of fabric, blinking in surprise at the pillow pressed against his face. “Mwa dehr?” Pulling the offending object away he glanced down at where she had landed, brown eyes wide as she gaped at him from the floor.  
  
“Oh god that’s so weird…” she whispered.  
  
“What?” he asked, stomach twisting. Did he do something wrong?  
  
A loud ring abruptly blared through the air, cutting the awkward tension building between them. With a start Alistair lunged to his feet, ripping his sword from its sheath.  
  
“Holy shit put that away!” she gasped, panicked, jumping to push his arm down as he stalked towards the source of the sound.  
  
Pausing he glanced down at her in concern. “Are you going to zap it?”  
  
Shaking her head she jogged past him, plucking up a strange black device on the counter. With a soft beep she pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”  
  
Alistair blinked, watching her worriedly. “Hi?” Walking forward he sheathed his weapon, pausing as a soft sound echoed justly barely from the device. “Makers breath is someone _talking_ to you through that?”  
  
Cringing Christiana waved at him with her hand, leaning against the counter. “No Eric I’m fine! I just broke my table.”  
  
Eric….? Alistair blinked, remembering the voices from last night. So the strange man who had come to check on them had now called? How did they know each other? And how did she know how to use that device? Shifting his weight he glanced at her clothes, mentally recounting her sprint to the strange white room. She must have been here for a while to know her way around so instinctively. Had she arrived before him? His chest constricted at the thought, being stuck somewhere alone, without anyone you knew… No wonder she looked so tired! His heart swelled as he watched her. Maker, but she was brave. Reaching out he wrapped his arms around her from behind, silently vowing to never make her go through anything alone again.  
  
Her voice hitched at the contact, before she slowly relaxed back against him, talking quietly with the stranger. Alistair ignored the conversation, focused instead on the feel of her. Closing his eyes he allowed his aching body to lean against hers, savoring the familiarity of her voice, that sensation of _home_ that he had never had before. Smiling at the thought he nuzzled her hair. They would get through this, together, whatever weird _this_ it might be. High dragons, Archdemons, fancy parties… weird places made of lights… With a happy sigh, he savored the moment of quiet amongst all the panic, until with a rumble his stomach made its protest known. Glaring at the offending area he cuddled her closer. Food was secondary right now.  
  
With a soft chuckle she leaned forward, plucking a strange long yellow object from a bowl next to her. Nibbling on the tip, she peeled off its thick skin handing it to him over her shoulder. Eyeing it warily he pulled it from her hand, taking a cautious bite, murmuring happily at the taste. Alistair quickly inhaled the remainder, stomach growling in approval. Give her a soft kiss on the cheek he wriggled away. If she had been here for long enough to know the place so well, surely it was safe to investigate?  
  
Idea accepted he cautiously began opening various drawers, making note of pots and pans, boxes, and jars. Next came the large metal box. Flicking a glance to the side, he noticed Christiana staring at him in amusement, little box still pressed to her ear. Giving her a wink he opened it, jerking back in surprise as cold air rushed into his face. Curiously he examined the strange bottles, labeled with writing in incomprehensible scribbles, and fruit and vegetables shoved into the drawers. Tilting his head he opened the final drawer and froze. It was full of _cheese_! Hands shaking he grasped a white package, the telltale color of brie just barely visible through the exterior.  
  
“Sweet Maker and Andraste…” he whispered, pulling the wheel closer. Since the blight began they hadn’t had money for such a luxury, not to mention that an amount this large was worth hundreds of sovereigns. How had she…? Grinning from ear to ear he stepped out from the box, gently closing it as he strode over to her. Tugging on her strange clothes lightly, he gestured gleefully at the cheese in his hand. They could sell it for a hefty sum for sure, but couldn’t he have just a bite? “Christiana…” he needled, beaming over the wheel clutched to his chest.  
  
She paused, smiling up at him with an odd look of reverence, eyes blinking like she couldn’t believe he was standing there. Mentally slapping himself he straightened. Probably trying not to hit him for suggesting a fortune of cheese as a snack.  
  
“Is that a no?” he inquired, trying and failing to hide the squirm of insecurity.  
  
Shaking her head slightly she gestured him towards a wooden board. “No Eric, you don’t need to come over, I just tripped on Wigums.” She paused as he deposited his find on the counter. With a flick of her wrist she gestured to a loaf of bread wrapped tightly in a clear material, plucking it from his hands as he poked it curiously. “Why would you even think that honestly? Ugh.” Leaning the device to the side she smiled at him warmly. “Grab a knife and cut that up for us?” Shifting back she frowned as the tiny voice echoed through the box. “What? No! Obviously not you…”  
  
Grinning he reached for his dagger in his boot, eyes intent on the tasty morsel that was soon to be _theirs!_ He jerked as she smacked his arm, glaring at the dirty knife clutched in his hand. Sending her a mock pout he sheathed it, reaching instead for the knife block he had seen earlier. Carefully he sliced a small chunk for each of them, pulling off his gauntlets as he grabbed them a piece of bread.  
  
“Yes someone is over…. No they’re not pretend…” With a huff she accepted the food, nodding in thanks before taking a huge mouthful. Smirking in amusement, Alistair watched her glare at the device, brow wrinkling in aggravation. Whoever this Eric was, he needed to go. They needed to figure out where they were, and how to get home. Frowning he shifted closer to her. If he was alive, and she was alive, did that mean the Archdemons soul hadn’t been destroyed? Was there still a blight? Shoving the thought away in his “later” box, Alistair took a cautious bite of the cheese in his hand, promptly moaning at the taste.  
  
“Oh Maker!” He gasped, savoring it as it exploded across his palette. This had to be _the_ finest cheese he had ever tried, and he’d snuck quite a few from the Arls pantry back in the day.  
  
“Eric… I- I have to go.” Christiana stuttered out next to him, cheeks flushed red at his ecstatic noises. Noting her blush Alistair winked at her, slipping his arm around her waist. Yes, that man _definitely_ had to go.  
  
With a soft beep, she turned off the device, shifting to face him as he beamed down at her. “Hi Alistair…” she squeaked out, eyes widening in alarm as her voice cracked.  
  
Chuckling Alistair pressed closer against her side. “Hi!” He watched her swallow nervously, eyes flicking to his face and then away, as if she couldn’t believe he was standing with her. Reaching down he grasped her hand gently in his, pulling her palm until it rested against his breast plate. “Are you alright?”  
  
Her hand shook in his, fingers clenching. “I-I’m fine.” She didn’t look fine in his opinion. Dark circles framed her brown eyes, her hair, resting in a tangled mess around her head.  
  
Cupping her chin in his hand he turned her face up to his. “I was so scared, before. In Denerim. I…” Swallowing he leaned down, eyes trained on her lips. “The thought that you would take that blow. That you would _die_. Makers breath, but I couldn’t.” He brushed his lips against her cheek gently, aching to give her a proper kiss, but the remembrance of her panicked expression before stopped him.  
  
Blinking up at him she stilled at the touch, one hand brushing the spot he had kissed. “Oh my god I can’t believe this is happening.” Pulling her hand from his she reached up, grasping handfuls of her hair and tugging it straight up. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” Sucking in a harsh breath she froze, staring at him. “You smell… awful.”  
  
Blushing, Alistair ran a hand through his matted hair. “Well, one of us just recently took on an Archdemon and its army of darkspawn. Pardon me for not having time to throw myself into a lake in between.” Tugging her hands from her hair, he swung them between them. “How long have you been here for, love? For the matter, where is _here_? Have you been waiting for me?” Playing with her fingers lightly, he shifted closer. Maker, what if it had been years?  
  
“How long have I…?” Blinking in surprise she glanced down at where he held her hand, blushing. He could see the wheels turning in her brain. “I’ve been waiting for years to meet you.” She told him, eyes flicking to his. “But I didn’t think it was possible.”  
  
Ice clawed through Alistairs veins at her words. “Years?” he whispered, fingers tightening around hers in alarm. No wonder she had turned her head away before. No wonder she had fainted at the site of him, a dead man, falling into her life! His eyes burned at the thought. Reaching out he tugged her tightly against him, thoughts racing. “I won’t leave you again.” he vowed softly, pressing his face into her hair.  
  
Leaning against him she nodded, her small hands roving over his back. Sniffling she pulled away regarding him, eyes watering in the dim glow of the mage lamps. “Right.” Sucking in a harsh breath she gave him a tremulous smile. “How about we get all the darkspawn off you first and then I tell you what’s what.” Tugging on his hand she led him from the kitchen, and down the hallway muttering under her breath. “And determine whether or not I’m crazy.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was surreal, and Christiana was still reeling from everything. Here she was, striding down her hallway with _Alistair Theirin_ trailing after her. No big deal, right? Except it was a _huge_ deal! Cursing under her breath she clutched his hand shakily with hers, squeezing his fingers to reassure herself that this was an actual thing that was occurring. Who would have thought trying to get a life would lead to either A) a full mental break down where she was hallucinating fictional men, or B) said fictional man now currently walking behind her. Not to mention she was pretty sure he’d tried to kiss her. Twice! Glancing up at him her stomach flipped, curious brown eyes smiling down at her own making her flush. Oh god! She should have let him plant one on her, just so she could have experienced it once before they shipped her off to an asylum.  
  
Really Christiana? Mentally shaking herself she shoved her way through the bathroom door. You’re standing in front of a guy you’ve spent the last several years obsessing over as being sweet and adorable, and all you see now is six foot four feet of your perfect wet dream? Cringing she pulled to a stop in the middle of the bathroom fixing her gaze on the sink. Ugh, this was such a mess.  
  
“So!” rallying the failing threads of her brain she turned to face him, pushing a smile past her blush. “This is the bathroom! This here is the sink, that nozzle will bring out hot water, and the other cold.” To demonstrate she quickly turned each on, flinching when he jerked next to her in surprise. Bullying forward she patted the toilet next. “Think of this beauty as a chamber pot. Do your business, wipe up, then hit this thingy and whoosh! Away it goes.”  
  
Next to her he smiled, fingering the soft toilet paper in surprise. “This is incredible. Are these devices controlled by runes?”  
  
She blinked. He wanted to know how they worked? Truthfully, _she_ didn’t know how half the things she used every day operated. “Um… yes? We’ll go with that for now.” Shaking her head she moved to the shower. “Here, this works the same as the sink, except it’s bigger. That’s your shampoo and conditioner, and the big pink bottle is body wash.” Pointing to each item and turn she puffed out a breath. There, now he was ready to face the great big world of showering.  
  
“Shampoo?” he questioned, pulling the bottle in question open. With a tentative sniff he eyed it, staring at her across the top. “Maker but this is _strong!_ How do they even get anything to be so… smelly.”  
  
Christiana smiled nervously in response, shrugging helplessly. “No idea. Put that in your hair, lather it up, and wash it out. Same with the conditioner, and you should be fine.”  
  
Nodding he placed the bottle back carefully, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Reaching out he tugged on the straps of his breast plate. “Help?” He sent her a charming smile, flushing slightly as she jerked forward, hands unthinkingly scrambling to grasp the counter.  
  
“Right! Yes! Armor… that’s… a thing.” Shaking her head she moved closer to him, glancing at the array of straps and buckles holding his metal shell closed. “Um…” walking around him she frowned. There were so many! “Is there are starting point I should be looking for here or….?”  
  
Chuckling he lifted his arm, pointing to the buckle holding a piece of plate to his bicep. “This one love.”  
  
“Right- I, yes.” Fighting down a blush she tackled the buckle with single minded determination, however, easier said than done seemed to be some sort of recurring theme. The damn thing was heavy duty, clamped tightly to the swell of muscle. With an aggravated huff she wriggled and tugged on the stupid thing until with a triumphant hoot it popped open. Beaming at him from beneath his arm she pulled the plate off, placing it beside the door. “We’ve so got this.” She told him, smiling as she maneuvered to his other side.  
  
“I certainly hope so! Being stuck in armor forever…” With a theatrical shudder he sent her a mock pout. “That would be awful!”  
  
Grabbing his first pauldron she nodded. “Yeah, I could see how wearing this all day would suck ass.”  
  
With a choked giggle, he stared down at her in surprise. “Suck what?”  
  
Christiana blushed furiously, eyes widening in alarm as she clutching the hunk of metal to her chest. “It’s an expression! I don’t mean to literally suck on anything!” Grasping her burning cheek with one hand she willed her thoughts still. Man, but she would probably be pretty willing to suck on anything of his he had to offer. Rubbing her forehead, she quickly placed the armored piece down, using his other shoulder as a means to hide her tomato complexion.  
  
He huffed out a laugh, his hand raking through his hair as he watched her with smiling eyes. “Working up a sweat minx?”  
  
Pulling on the next buckle she laughed, the task taking her mind from the strangeness of her current situation. “Girls don’t sweat.” She told him, freeing his other arm with a grin. “We glisten, right?”  
  
Alistair let out a snort at that, eyebrow quirking in amusement. “Is that so? You might want to see a healer then love.”  
  
Rolling her eyes she unslung his shield, staggering under its weight in surprise. “Holy crap! How much does all this stuff weigh?” He reached out, grabbing her elbow gently before she slammed head first into the ground.  
  
“A lot.” Smiling he unbuckled his sword, handing it to her carefully.  
  
“Thanks!” Next she grabbed his breast plate, tugging and maneuvering until with a clang she freed it, placing it carefully on the floor. “We’re going to have to clean all this.” She muttered, staring down at the pile of bloody armor decorating her bathroom floor. How does one even clean armor anyway? Would she ruin it if she dumped it in water? Glancing up from her contemplation she blinked, eyes trailing over his under padding and tunic, until with a soft gasp they lit on a slash of red decorating his side. “You’re bleeding!” She blurted, hands reaching to tug on his clothing in alarm. “Shit! Have you been injured this whole time?”  
  
Alistair shrugged, glancing down at her with amusement. “Maybe…?” He submitted to her shoving as she backed him to the toilet, pressing him to sit on the lid.  
  
“Take off your shirt.” She ordered him, bending to rummage beneath the sink with shaky hands. “Injured this whole time! Doesn’t breath a word! Ugh.”  
  
With a soft hum, she grabbed the first aid kit, turning to face him with a triumphant smile. “Found it!” glancing at him she nearly dropped the bottle in surprise, mouth gaping at the sight of him, languishing against her toilet seat, shirtless. Swallowing she stared at the stretch of muscle, lightly dusted with hair, and streaked with bruises, but what really got her attention was the large scar stretching the length of his torso. Three long lines slashed across his chest, each nearly as thick as her arm. Christiana blinked, remembering the fight with the high dragon outside the urn of sacred ashes. He had been picked up and shaken around like a toy in her game, immediately knocked from the fight once he’d been thrown to the ground. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it. Why would she? He had been a game character! But now, staring at the mark the dragon had left her stomach plummeted.  
  
With a nervous chuckle he shifted on the toilet seat, hand scratching his chin. “Struck speechless dear?”  
  
Christina flinched, recognizing his attempt at deflection with humor. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that beneath all the jokes and quips he had been alone and unloved for so long. Something inside her melted, as she watched him curl in on himself self-consciously, her heart leaping oddly in her chest. Walking towards him quickly, she knelt by his side, cupping his chin with her hand. “Definitely, you gorgeous man.” Flushing she smiled, catching his hand with hers lightly.  
  
His head jerked up in surprise at her words, eyes softening as he stared down at her with a tentative smile. Pressing closer to her he nodded, blushing. “Better be ready to beat back all the ladies then. I’m relying on you to protect me after all.”  
  
Laughing she nodded, hesitantly giving his hand a squeeze before pushing him back against the seat more firmly. “You know it! None of those other girls stand a chance!” Flexing her arm for show she smiled at him, reaching for the disinfectant. “Now! Let’s get this wound all cleaned up and toss you into the shower. Then, I’ll grab you some clothes and make us lunch.”  
  
“Ooooo food!” Alistair beamed at her, allowing her to pour some of the liquid across the slash decorating his waist. “And then, after we eat. Will you explain everything? You know, about all…this?” he gestured to the room around them, amber eyes locking with her own.  
  
Sucking in a harsh breath Christina nodded, her heart thundering as she watched him squirm from the cleaning solution. He would hate her after, she was sure, once he understood the inequality of what she knew about him. Staring down at the armor still incasing his thigh she shook herself slightly. She would tell him the truth, make him understand what had happened, and the go from there. To wherever there might be. “Can you get the rest of your armor?” she asked, panic suddenly crawling up her throat at the inevitability of later.  
  
With a nod he caught her hand gently with his. “Yes, of course! But… um.” Smiling shyly he tugged on her fingers. “Care to join me?”  
  
Her brain crawled to a halt, thoughts looping through, wet, and naked over and over. Blowing out a nervous breath she giggled. “Don’t tempt me!” With another laugh she sprinted out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. Shit. But she wished she could have said yes and not felt like a lecher about it. Closing her eyes she counted slowly to ten, leaning her head against the door. “Right, clothing time.” Nodding to herself she jogged to her bedroom, changing quickly from her cat pajamas into a t-shirt and jeans. A soft meow drew her attention to Wigums as the cat materialized by her feet. “Am I crazy kitty?” she asked, plucking him up gently to pet. He purred in response, sandpaper tongue running lightly over her cheek. “Good chat.” She told him, smiling as she placed him on the ground.  
  
Rushing back to the bathroom door she knocked hesitantly, listening to the sound of running water. “Alistair?” At his non response she pushed the door open, steam immediately billowing into her face. “Alistair? I’m just going to run out and grab you something to wear, I’ll be back soon, alright?” Blinking she pressed closer to the shower curtain, the smell of floral soap almost over powering. “Alistair…?”  
  
A muffled thud echoed through the room before his voice floated up through the crash of water. “Oh Maker! This thing is fantastic!” she heard him giggle maniacally, her bottle of shampoo abruptly re-appearing on the edge of the tub. “We need this love, when we head back. Can we take it with us?”  
  
Pressing a hand to her mouth in amusement she stifled a laugh. “Um, I’ll see what I can do.” Picking up the bottle she shook it in surprise, noting it’s almost empty state. “Should I grab more shampoo?”  
  
“Yes! So many bubbles!” His head poked through the shower curtain, hair plastered to his head as he gave her a boyish grin, a mound of bubbled soap decorating the top of his head. “And it smells fantastic!” Beaming with enthusiasm he held out a handful of suds. “These are like those Orleasian oils Leliana used to constantly clog up the rivers with! But less… Orleasian-y.” Smiling he wriggled his eyebrows, voice lowering. “Changed your mind about joining me?”  
  
Shaking her head slightly she backed out of the room, wet and naked screaming through her head, making her blush. “I’ll be back soon alright?”  
  
“Without me? Shouldn’t I go with you?” He scratched is chin, unthinkingly spreading the suds across his jaw like a beard. “Is that safe?”  
  
Fighting down a laugh she reached over, wiping the soap away. “Not unless you want to run around after me naked.”  
  
“Oh, good point.” Nodding he gently grasped her chin, mouth brushing her cheek. “Don’t take too long, my dear.”  
  
Tripping slightly Christiana nodded, his voice, velvety smooth, felt like a caress against her skin. “Right, going!” Spinning she closed the door behind her, smoothing her hair back with shaky hands. Clutching her blushing cheeks she seized her keys from the hook next to the wall, swallowing through the gallop of her heart beat. Who knew he could flip from joking to seductive that quickly? Locking up her apartment she strode to the elevator punching the down button firmly. “What have I gotten myself into?” she groaned.


	6. Chapter 6

It was if everyone who saw her _knew_ she was buying clothes for her imagination, her fictional man. She blushed through buying several pairs of sweat pants and t-shirts, cringed while sorting through underwear and socks, and nearly fainted when confronted with different shoes. How was she supposed to know whether he preferred boxers or briefs? Or was a size 10 or 15? The cashier seemed to see into her soul at the register, silently judging Christiana and her maybe delusions. Escaping from the oppressive atmosphere of the store had her nearly shouting with relief, allowing her to push her sweaty hair back from her forehead. Oh god but what if this was all in her head? What was she supposed to do with all these clothes then?!  
  
Huffing out a breath she shoved the thought aside, gathering her bags with as much dignity as a possible crazy woman could, and marched back to her apartment, briefly stopping to pick up sandwiches at the local deli. Pushing aside the door to her home, she dumped her load on the ground, pausing to tug on her shirt in aggravation at the sweat dripping down her back. “Ugh! Now I need a shower, shit!” Grumbling in annoyance she blinked around her small apartment, pausing in the absolute silence. “Alistair?” pushing hesitantly from the door she walked forward, heart pounding. “Alistair?” Swallowing the threat of panic she strode towards the bathroom, gently opening the door. “Hello?”  
  
Her eyes immediately tripped to the pile of armor, now cleaned, resting against the wall. She nearly sagged in relief at the sight. He had been real! She wasn’t crazy! Letting out an awkward laugh she pushed towards the shower, listening to the soft trickle of water, eyes trained on the feet poking through the curtain. “Hey, are you alive?” she asked, freezing as she pulled the barrier away.  
  
Alistair laid there, fast asleep, a mound of bubbled water nearly flowing out of the tubs top. His soft breathing echoed through the room as he snoozed, eyes twitching beneath his lids. Blushing she glanced down as his face, willing her eyes to stay _there_. “Well…” she muttered softly. “I guess a siege would take a lot out of you.”  
  
Christiana blinked, shifting nervously. She needed to wake him, even if it was just to move him, but she’d seen enough movies to know shaking a fighter awake would probably end with her being strangled to death. Cringing at the image she reached out and grabbed the plunger from her toilet, shuffling close enough to nudge him with the handle. “Heeeyyy.” She hissed, poking his uninjured side lightly. “Alistair….”  
  
He growled softly in reply, arms curling around himself tightly beneath the water. Letting out an annoyed huff she poked him harder. The rest was a blur as with a cry she found herself launched into the tub, the resounding crack as he snapped the handle of the plunger with his arm echoing through the room. Spluttering around a mouthful of soap she was dragged upright, Alistairs hands gripping her arms securely.  
  
“Maker save me! Are you alright?!” His face came into view, brown eyes wide with concern as he brushed her hair back. He slid her closer, tossing the wooden handle out the tubs side.  
  
“Holy crap!” She wheezed, glancing down at the shattered handle she held and back to him. “Good thing I didn’t use my arm.”  
  
Cringing he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her until she was sitting in his lap. “Why would you try poking me anyway?” Pushing his face against hers, he gently tucked her under his chin, arms cradling her close. His heart thundered beneath her head, hands shakily running up and down her soaking wet clothing, as if to reassure himself that she was alright.  
  
Inside she froze, the feel of his muscled chest pressing against her setting her heart racing and breath panting. She was sitting in Alistairs lap. His wet and _naked_ lap. Oh god. Blushing uncontrollably Christiana shifted in the circle of his arms, his muttered grumping tickling the back of her neck. Letting out a nervous giggle she wriggled against him, attempting to free herself awkwardly, breath hitching as his thigh pressed between hers. Behind her he tensed, arms clamping down around her, as he hissed out a breath in her ear. “Al- Alistair! I’m fine! Um, oh boy.”  
  
“What do you think you’re doing there love?” he asked, the soft wisp of his breath raising the hairs along her arms. Pulling her even closer his mouth brushed lightly against her neck, the warmth of his body soaking through her drenched clothing, setting her body flaming. A gentle chuckle rumbled from low in his chest, shaking her slightly. “What a reverse this is! Isn’t it usually me helplessly stuttering and bumbling away in _your_ arms?”  
  
“I- I’m just… um.” Fighting to regain her wits she pressed a hand gently against his chest, feeling the texture of his chest hair tickle her fingers lightly. “Clothes… Yes! I bought you clothes! And food! We should go… use those.” Pressing forward she realized he hadn’t locked his arms, leaving her room to get away if she so chose. Part of her deflated in disappointment as he let her stand, her wet clothing immediately dripping onto her nice clean floor as she hurried out. Gathering her wits she grabbed the bag of clothing she had bought him, pulling open the packages with shaking hands, blathering nervously. “So, I wasn’t really sure what you preferred, boxers or briefs and all that, so I just got you a bit of everything!”  
  
“Anything you got will be fine, I’m sure.”  
  
Glancing up she nearly swallowed her tongue as he rose from the water, rivulets streaking down his torso. It was as if someone had switched on the sexy music and angels were singing, because holy crap. Unthinkingly she followed the trail of water, down past his chest as it meandered into the valley of his hips and then down towards his… Face flaming she spun around, eyes staring up in benediction at the ceiling. Holy shit, but his Maker sure had seen fit to grace him with some beautiful… assets. Licking her lips she held out a towel behind her back, mouth twisting as she thought of her own frumpy appearance next to the man behind her. Why hadn’t she let him throw her down have his way with her yet? Oh yeah, he thought she was the woman he was madly in love with.  
  
“Love?”  
  
She started in surprise as his hand curled around her arm, turning her to face him gently. Swallowing past the lump in her throat she forced her eyes up to his. “Yes?”  
  
He looked so concerned! Fighting down a wave of panic she tracked his eyes as the burned into hers. “Is… are you-?” Swallowing he straightened, large hand cupping her cheek gently, drawing her face to his as he rested his forehead against hers. “Whatever has happened here, however long it’s been.... I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I haven’t been thinking. It’s only been a couple hours since I’ve seen you last and I- well.” Releasing her chin he pushed her hair back from her face, blushing nervously at her strained expression. “I care for you so much, I don’t want you to think I’m just, panting after your breeches. Not that you’re wearing any.”  
  
Flushing her brain seized at his words. He was apologizing for making her uncomfortable? He hadn’t even really done anything! “Hey.” Gripping his arm lightly she sent him her best smile. “It’s not you, okay? I’ll explain everything once you get some clothes, so why don’t you put those on and meet me in the kitchen?”  
  
Nodding he pulled back slightly, a soft “okay” echoing as she wriggled away from him, leaving him standing forlornly in the middle of her bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Alistair bowed his head, pulling the strange clothing into his arms slowly. Maker, but he’d made a mess of _everything!_ She tells him how she hasn’t seen him in years, is twitching every time he gets within a foot of her, and what does he do? Snuggle her like she’s his personal pillow! _Naked!_ Letting out a disgusted huff he grabbed the white undergarments, dubiously fingering the little pocket at the front. Why was there…? Shaking his head he tugged them on, mentally smacking himself. Just this morning he had woken in her arms, the looming battle running circles through his mind, thoughts and prayers…and somehow here they are, together, in this strange place, and _he_ was just too giddy to keep his thoughts to himself. Grabbing the pants next he jerked them on, tying the rope at the front quickly. There was simply nothing for it. He would go out there, find out what in the void was going on, then spend however long it took until she trusted him again, even if that meant wooing her all over. She was… his everything, and he would not lose her if he still stood a chance.  
  
Reassured he glanced briefly around the strange room, eyeing the bath longingly before grabbing the shirt and wrenching it over his head. Smoothing back his hair her trotted out of the room, glancing around the long stretch of hallway. “Christiana?” Turning into the kitchen he paused, eyes glued to his warden as she shuffled around, humming nervously as she laid out the most beautiful sandwiches he had ever seen.  
  
Brushing her hair back over her shoulder she sent him a gentle smile. “Hey. You look… really good! Do the clothes fit alright? I put your other stuff in the wash, I figured its strong enough survive a spin cycle right?” Babbling nervously she picked up one of the plates and set it back down before grabbing it again, eyes skittering around the room. “Also! I’m so glad you did your armor because honest to god I had no idea how the hell that would have worked! Do you just… dump it in water? Plus darkspawn stuff! You don’t think that’s going to poison the river will it?”  
  
Alistair blinked, sorting through the explosion of words confusedly. “Um no?” Striding forward quickly, he plucked the remaining plate from her hand, placing it gently on the table. Glancing down at the food he flushed, stomach squirming uncomfortably. “You didn’t have to get such expensive food! This must have cost a fortune!”  
  
“Huh?” Glancing around, she pointed at one of the sandwiches. “It was only fifteen all together.” Shrugging at his flabbergasted look she blushed slightly. “Prices here are different. Trust me! Two sandwiches and a load of fries is cheap for that price!” Busying herself she pushed him into the chair, hands smoothing over his shoulders unthinkingly. “Here, food! Your first taste of stuff from here!” Plunking down next to him she seized her own, inhaling her first mouthful with the determination of a dying woman.  
  
Alistair paused, eyes following the blushing curve of her cheeks. Makers breath but she was stunning. Glancing down embarrassed, he took a bite, nearly moaning at the plethora of tastes exploding in his mouth. “Sweet Maker and Andraste!”  
  
Next to him she beamed. “I’d hoped you’d like that one!” Excitedly she bounced in her seat, enthusiasm lighting her eyes. “I think the deli lady thought I was insane! Fluttering all over the store or what not, but _I_ think she was just being _mean_! Or maybe it was all in my head.” Shrugging she quickly looked away from him, curling around herself as he quirked an eyebrow at her outburst.  
  
“Evil ladies wielding meat giving you trouble? That’s what you take me for!”  
  
Laughing she gaped up at him. “Al-Alistair.” Snickering at his confused look she slapped her knee, wheezing.  
  
“What?”  
  
Waving him away she relaxed next to him, bumping his arm lightly with her own. “I’m going to have to teach you the meaning of some euphemisms.”  
  
He blushed in return, firmly turning his thoughts _away_ from anything… naughty. Carefully taking another bite he watched her, gauging her expression as he quietly contemplated his next question. “About… _here_. Where is here exactly?” As she stiffened, he winced. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? Why did he have to know _now_?  
  
Leaning forward she grabbed a few of the golden sticks, eyes glued to the food. “I’m not really sure how to explain to be completely truthful.” Glancing at him she shivered, expression pained.  
  
Alistair gave her a shaky smile in return body numb at her fear. Whatever it was, whatever had happened, he had her back, as always. “The beginning?” he inquired, heart pounding through his ribcage.  
  
Nodding she shifted, placing the food down hesitantly. “I guess I should use this time then as a precursor and set down some facts I have been keeping from you.” Christina turned to face him, mouth twisting. “The truth of all this is… we have never actually met face to face.” At his confused look and open mouth she quickly lifted her hand, forestalling his protests. “Listen, I am the warden, but I’m also not. I’ve never been to Ferelden, I’ve never been through the joining, and I’m certainly not a mage like my warden was. I… _watched_ all those events, and I controlled the warden, but not in a weird and crazy way! Its common practice here!” As he paled next to her she bullied forwards. “The truth is we use an…. Interface? Um, yes, to enter other worlds. We create a person, or sometimes the person already exists, and we do a series of tasks, and we save the whole damn place, but your worlds were never actually supposed to exist!” Huffing out a panicked breath of air she pushed past his stunned expression. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen! My friends were teasing about how much time I was spending talking with you, a _fictional_ as in _very not real_ , person, and I…!” swallowing she glared down at her lap, fingers twisting. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.  
  
Alistair gaped at her, food forgotten as it plopped onto the plate in front of him. “Let me get this straight. You use some kind o-of magic and just, what? Pop into worlds in need, create a person, and go rampaging around trying to fix everything? Like playing at being a god? Is that your job or something here?”  
  
“What?” snapping up she shook her head furiously. “No! No godhood here! Just your very normal and average pediatric nurse with no love life and awful friends.”  
  
“And what do you mean we have never met face to face? Are you not the woman I have spent the past year with?” Brushing a shaky hand through his hair, Alistair traced her features. Maker, but she _looked_ like his Christiana, sounded like her…!  
  
“Ugh yes! But also… no?” Pushing herself to her feet she gestured him to follow her, leading him into the still destroyed center of her living room. “Here, sit.” Pushing him onto the couch, she pressed a button on a large black box, watching the lights whirl as she clicked on the even larger one resting against her wall. Immediately music blared through the air, his hair standing on end as instruments he had never dreamed existed lifted into song. Blushing she sat next to him, skirting the pile of broken wood that had once been a table. “This is the interface.” Picking up a controller she clicked through a series of screens until before them was the strangest version of their camp he had ever seen, the world shaped and twisted oddly but still eerily familiar.  
  
“This is…” swallowing he glanced at the familiar circle of tents, gut twitching as he stared at his wardens back _on the screen_. “That’s…” swallowing the lump in his throat he flinched as she rotated around herself, showing off the different angles of the area.  
  
“This is what I meant.” She told him softly, clutching the hunk of plastic closer to her chest. “Through this I can talk, fight, and help. But in reality, I’ve always been sitting here mostly just observing.” Turning away she paused, frowning as she moved her warden Christiana forward. Blinking she pulled to a stop before the camp fire. “You’re not here!” Glancing around she stiffened, his labored breathing echoing through the room as she paused to glance at him.  
  
For Alistair’s part his thoughts were racing, gut clenching. This was _insane_. When he had hit the Archdemon he had died, there was simply no way about it. Was this the Makers bosom then? Shaking next to her he swallowed past the lump in his throat, shuddering to focus. “I never should have said anything back to that voice!” he finally choked out, lunging to his feet next to her.  
  
“What?” she asked blankly, gaping up at him as he towered before her.  
  
“When I hit the Archdemon! I felt… a presence, it was beautiful. And then a voice! It was so loud, and it asked me what I wanted most.” Shivering he curled his arms around himself, flinching as the cat trotted up to him from around the corner.  
  
“What did you say in reply?” Christiana asked softly, twisting a handful of hair around her fingers.  
  
Next to her he froze, thoughts ordering themselves. “I… I asked to be taken to the person who loves me the most.” Flushing his stared down at his feet, thoughts calming. If the soul of the Old God had taken him here then… shifting to stare at her he thought through everything she had shown him. “You’re still _you_ , aren’t you?”  
  
At his soft words she shivered. “Alistair, I’m not sure! I mean, yes I’m the warden, but I was always limited in what I could say or do! For example, why could I never ask what your favorite color was, or point out interesting things I saw, or tease you when you accidentally ran into yet another trap?” Standing she pressed onto her toes, rocking awkwardly. “I never got to see any of the in between. We were either fighting, doing a mission, at camp, or I was staring at a loading screen. I’ve never seen what was going on in the middle, and I wasn’t in control during those times either!”  
  
He blinked, tilting his head curiously. “Is that why you were always so scarily silent when we traveled or set up camp?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Humming softly he waved vaguely in her direction. “You always got the blankest look on your face as soon as we set out, and you’d never speak with anyone the entire time. I thought, maybe you just didn’t like talking and walking? Then at camp, you would pull out your journal and stare at it. For _hours_! I think Wynne thought you had a problem to be completely honest. Not to mention, often after that you’d start hurling sets of armor at people and stare until we put them on. All rather strange behavior, but we got used to it.”  
  
Blushing furiously she gaped up at him. “I had no idea!”  
  
“Truth be told I was more than a little surprised when you handed me that stuff back in the other room.” Shrugging his shoulders his heart pounded in his chest, eyes locked on hers.  
  
“Then, that means every time I talked to you… it was the only time?” Stepping back quickly from his softening expression she tugged a handful of her hair into her fists. “Holy, shit.” Catching his arm, she tugged on it slightly, pulling her hair with the other in aggravation. “Oh my god, so that means…” Pausing she gaped up at him before settling back awkwardly. “Well then.”  
  
“What it means,” Alistair breathed, twitching her hand off his arm and into his own, “Is that it _was_ you who I was with the entire time. You are my warden.” Taking a hesitant step forward he watched her carefully, noting the hitch of her breath. “Tell me something. When you talked to me through this… interface? Did you mean to get to know me like you did? Do you… feel the same for me as I do for you?”  
  
At his question she froze, hand clenching around his firmly. “I-I…” Swallowing she pushed herself away from him slightly. “It’s complicated!” Spinning away she hurried back to the kitchen, Alistair trailing behind her in surprise.  
  
“Why is it complicated?” he asked, gently gripping her hands as she began cleaning up the leftover food.  
  
“Be-because! It’s part of the game to have romance interests!”  
  
“What?” he whispered, heart dropping in confusion.  
  
“Thousands of people around the world have done what I have done! Played through your world as a warden and saved it! And thousands of fan girls all over the damn planet have swooned and kissed the hell out of you, married you, made you king, killed you! Ugh!” Spinning away she fisted her shirt in her hands, sniffling in the silence. “But it was never a game for me! I grew to care about you more than I cared about the guys actually in my life! It got so bad my friends thought I needed an intervention! I’m so sorry!”  
  
Jerking away from his hands she ran down the hallway and into the bedroom, the door slamming shut as a soft sob echoed through the corridor.  
  
Alistair froze in the center of the room, staring after her in surprise. She had said she cared for him! Parsing through everything he had been told, he slid to the floor, the strange clothing dangling around his body dangerously. Groaning he thumped backwards against the dining room table, thoughts racing nervously, body aching.  
  
A soft meow drew his attention to the small cat from before, the purring bundle of fur climbing into his lap, and licking the tip of his nose gently. Eyes crinkling in amusement he patted the cat softly, humming as he began to create a plan. From where he was sitting he had a few facts he had to consider. One being he was here, with his warden, and there was a whole mess of things he had never realized. Two being she felt enormously guilty for some perceived slight against him. And finally, the complete and utter fact that the Archdemon or Maker, or whoever, had sent him to her when he asked for the person who loved him most. Nodding to himself, he climbed to his feet, the cat clutched against his chest with one arm. She wasn’t sure she could care for him, or that she knew him, and perhaps that was so, but they had been given this opportunity for more and he would not waste it. He would show her who he was, and he would know her better, and then… “Well kitty, we’ll see where that leaves us wont we?”


End file.
